Just mak her a brae young sailor, and the Maggy
Bell 'll do the rest on't." Hardweather here interrupted Molly's
suggestion which was, indeed, most fortunate, and albeit supplied
the initiative to the strategy afterwards adopted-for slavery opens
wide the field of strategy-by reminding the stranger that she had a
long Scotch head. The night had now well advanced; the stranger
shook the woman's hand firmly, and bade her good night, as a tear
gushed into his eyes. The scene was indeed simple, but touching. The
hard mariner will accompany his friend to the wharf; and then as he
again turns on the capsill, he cannot bid him good night without
adding a few words more in praise of the little Maggy Bell, whose
name is inscribed in gilt letters upon the flash-board of her stern.
Holding his hand, he says: "Now, keep the heart up right! and in a
day or two we'll have all aboard, and be in the stream waiting for a
fair breeze-then the Maggy 'll play her part. Bless yer soul! the
little craft and me's coasted down the coast nobody knows how many
years; and she knows every nook, creek, reef, and point, just as
well as I does. Just give her a double-reefed mainsail, and the lug
of a standing jib, and in my soul I believe she'd make the passage
without compass, chart, or a hand aboard. By the word of an old
sailor, such a craft is the Maggy Bell. And when the Spanish and
English and French all got mixed up about who owned Florida, the
Maggy and me's coasted along them keys when, blowing a screecher,
them Ingins' balls flew so, a body had to hold the hair on his head;
but never a bit did the Maggy mind it.
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